


The Bad-Mannered Plight

by MeganWrites



Series: Rod of Asclepius [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ian spends the rest of the walk trying to ignore how impatient and annoyed Mickey is getting. It continues after they reach Ian's apartment as Mickey drops the bags immediately and sits down, silently watching Ian slowly unpacks and puts everything away. Mickey doesn't say a word, just starts smoking, but Ian doesn't mind so much. He likes how domestic this feels; going to the grocery store, teasing each other on the way home, putting away food together (well, Mickey's still in the same room at least). Ian can see a whole future with Mickey likes this and he craves it. He wants a terribly lame and cheesy domestic future with Mickey so badly.</p><p>And maybe this is step number one."</p><p>Ian is a nervous medical intern, Mickey is a grumpy nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bad-Mannered Plight

**Author's Note:**

> So after a very, very long break - here is the latest installment to the Rod of Asclepius series. I am so sorry it took so long, but life has been crazy and then the finale was rough so, yeah. Hope you enjoy!

“Would you stop?” Ian snaps, turning his head to glare over his shoulder at Mickey as he walks, he barely manages to keep the stern look when the nurse gives him a sly grin.

“Not sure what you’re talking about, Gallagher,” Mickey answers smoothly, keeping perfectly in step behind Ian.

Ian snorts and rolls his eyes, “Asshole.”

He focuses back on walking, he can see his building now so it’s not much further. Fuck, he should really remember this for the next time he goes grocery shopping. Ian had enlisted Mickey’s help when he decided to go on a massive shopping spree, stocking up on all his non-perishable foods and his regular groceries for the month. The grocery shopping turned out to be a huge success, which sadly meant that both Ian and Mickey were left with carrying an incredible amount of bags between the two of them.

Ian vaguely remembers the first time he shopped like this and how he invited half of his siblings to help. As his fingers now feel like they are about to fall off, he thinks it probably would have been a good idea to have asked them this time as well. Except, Ian had jokingly asked Mickey to come with him and Mickey had said yes, and Ian didn’t want to sacrifice any time alone with Mickey so he had just left it.

Hindsight is 20/20 though and Ian thinks that next time, for the good of his extremities, he will ask his siblings to help, regardless of alone time with the guys he’s in love with.

Ian takes a few more steps before he once again feels a bag hitting his ass.

“Seriously?” Ian spins around, keeping his pace and walking backwards.

Mickey shrugs innocently, “seriously, what?”

Ian shakes his head and laughs, Mickey’s hard to stay mad at or annoyed with. He’s just got this way about him that Ian doesn’t know how to not be charmed by. It’s the Mickey Milkovich effect and it’s impossible to overcome.

Ian spends the rest of the walk trying to ignore how impatient and annoyed Mickey is getting. It continues after they reach Ian's apartment as Mickey drops the bags immediately and sits down, silently watching Ian slowly unpacks and puts everything away. Mickey doesn't say a word, just starts smoking, but Ian doesn't mind so much. He likes how domestic this feels; going to the grocery store, teasing each other on the way home, putting away food together (well, Mickey's still in the same room at least). Ian can see a whole future with Mickey likes this and he craves it. He wants a terribly lame and cheesy domestic future with Mickey so badly.

And maybe this is step number one.

Mickey gets impatient eventually, standing up and making a beeline to Ian. He grabs Ian from behind by his hips and spins him around, pushing him back until he's tightly pressed between Mickey and the counter.

"I still have shit to unpack," Ian mutters, looking down to be met by Mickey's hungry eyes.

Mickey hums and licks his lips, "It can wait." He shoves one of his legs between Ian's, grinding it up against Ian's crotch and pressing his own against Ian's thigh. Ian hisses at the sudden contact and Mickey grins at the accomplishment.

“It’s a mess in here-”

“Don’t care.”

"I have a bed," Ian tries, gasping when Mickey drags his nails across Ian's back. Mickey doesn't seem to be paying attention as his mouth latches on at the base of Ian's throat. The way he's gently sucking and licking at the tender skin is enough to make a Ian's knees weak.

Fuck, when Mickey wants something, Ian has no power to say no.

Not ever. Not when it's this good.

"Want you here," Mickey murmurs as he drops a line of slow, wet kisses along the expanse of Ian's neck. "Want you on the counter, want to fuck you."

Ian groans lowly and any small amount of resistance he has left fades away with Mickey's word. Fuck, Ian wants that too, so fucking badly. "Yeah, fuck, yeah," Ian whispers and clings to Mickey, pulling him in tighter and rolling his hips faster.

Mickey nudges Ian back, grabbing his hips tightly and pushing him onto the counter until he's full seated with Mickey between his legs. Mickey reels Ian in close, hands on his ass and pulling him forward until their grinding and pressing against each other again. Mickey tilts his head back as Ian wraps a hand behind his neck, tongues and teeth clashing as he draws Mickey into a sloppy kiss.

"Clothes," Ian gasp into Mickey's mouth, running a hand down his chest and dragging his shirt up until he can touch skin. "Clothes," Ian repeats just as breathily, trying to catch a second where his brain isn't moving too fast for his mouth, "Clothes need to come off."

Mickey pulls back suddenly, muttering, "Yeah, need you naked," and speedily shucks off all his clothes.

Ian mimics his movements as quickly as he can and then Mickey's back against him, pressing hot flesh against hot flesh and feeling fucking amazing. Mickey hands are all over Ian, tracing every inch of his body as they kiss. Ian grabs both their cocks in his hands, holding them together and roughly stroking them. God, Ian loves how it feels when he's covered head-to-toe by Mickey, completely wrapped up and enveloped by him, it's like nothing else in the world. He's never felt as warm and content as he does in moments like these.

"You didn't unpack the stuff yet, did you?" Mickey asks.

Ian shakes his head, feeling somewhat glad that Mickey interrupted his unpacking if only to avoid the awkward pause of needing to run to his bedroom. Mickey leans in to give Ian one last lingering kiss before he draw back, one hand still holding onto Ian's thigh as he digs through one of the bags. Mickey returns to his spot between Ian's legs a second later holding a condom and lube. Ian leans forward to capture Mickey's lips once again, too addict to the taste of him to ever want to stop, but instead of kissing Ian again Mickey puts his hand against Ian's chest and pushes him back carefully.

"Lay down," Mickey murmurs, watching with hooded eyes as Ian slowly follows his instructions until he's lying flat along the cool surface with his legs hanging off the edge. Mickey rubs one hand over Ian's chest, tweaking one of his nipples and grinning at Ian's surprised gasp. "You look good like this," he comments lowly, giving Ian's cock three firm strokes before he pops the cap of the lube and slicks one finger. Mickey looks down at Ian before making any moves, waiting for Ian's silently approval and then as soon as Ian nods he's pressing his fingers in.

It feels amazing.

Fuck, oh God, _fuck._ Ian always forgets how incredible this feels until it’s happening.

Mickey's impatient when it comes to sex so he makes quick work of the prep. He's careful as always and listens intently for any sign that Ian might want him to stop, for all the gruff and grumble exterior, Mickey is a surprisingly attentive lover.

"Ready?" He asks, pupils blown wide, and cock hard and heavy.

Ian nods again, breathless and too caught up in how he feels to even try at an understandable sentence, or even a word.

Then Mickey's pushing into him and it's so much better, thrusting in slowly until he's fully seated within Ian. Mickey gasps and clutches at Ian's thighs, holding him in place against the counter and his legs wrapped tightly around Mickey’s torso. Mickey starts out with shallow, deep thrusts, just letting Ian adjust slowly. Ian moans loudly as each thrust become longer and harder, but Mickey never quickens his pace, just stays slow and steady as he turns Ian into a wreck.

And fuck, he is completely wrecked for Mickey. Maybe it's cheesy and stupid, but this is how Ian always wants to be, when he and Mickey are rocking together, digging into each other’s skin, it feels like he's finally complete and whole. Ian can't help himself from shifting, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Mickey, clinging to his sweat slick skin and pressing their torsos together, trapping his dick tightly in between. Ian just wants to be as close as he can, wants to feel every inch of Mickey against him.

Ian presses his forehead against Mickey's, gasping loudly when Mickey thrusts in against his prostate, then again and again as Mickey focuses his aim. Mickey's eyes meet Ian’s, wide and filled with awe and lust. God, he looks so beautiful. He's so beautiful and perfect and Ian can't fucking believe that he has him sometimes.

Mickey closes his eyes and grunts, tighten his grip on Ian's thighs, and Ian can't stop staring. He can't stop watching every little shift or tick on Mickey’s face, committing to memory each of them.

So perfect, so beautiful, so amazing.

"Ian," Mickey hisses and it's only then that Ian realizes that he's actually talking.

"Perfect, fucking perfect," he's saying softly, lovingly, as he rocks forward against Mickey.

"You're so perfect, so gorgeous, oh my God, Mick."

He can barely hold himself together, in fact, he's pretty sure at this point the only thing holding him together is Mickey (Mickey, who is the one causing him to fall apart at the same time - there's something wonderfully poetic about that). Ian presses his lips against Mickey's, matching the slow and heavy pace Mickey started, licking into his mouth and moaning with every thrust.

This is it, Ian's sure, this is the best thing that could ever happen to him - Mickey is the best thing that could ever happen to him. He's known it for so long and he's so in love with him that sometimes he thinks it can't possibly be real.

He's so fucking close.

And then he just can't not say it anymore.

"I love you," Ian whispers against Mickey's lips, "I love you so much, Mickey."

Mickey doesn't say it back, barely even seems to register it except he grips Ian just a bit tighter, kisses him deeper and picks up the pace. Ian thinks maybe that's Mickey's way of saying, 'I do too, so much' without the words. And Ian loves that too, loves that Mickey's all action and never words because Ian can translate now. He doesn't need more than Mickey squeezing his hand or giving him a kiss goodbye because that says more to him than words ever have.

But then, "Ian, I-" Mickey gasps and keeps rocking, Ian can feel him tensing and knows Mickey's close too. "Ian, fuck, I-"

Ian wants to hear it.

It's there, it's on the tip of Mickey's tongue and Ian wants to hear it. He thought he didn’t but, fuck, he does. He just wants to know, for sure, that all of this is true, that every touch he thinks means love really does.

"I - I think - fuck, Ian, I might -”

And then Ian's coming, gasping and shaking through his orgasm as he clings to Mickey. Mickey follows right after, groaning loudly as he falls into Ian, both of them dropping back onto the counter, wrapped up together and breathing heavily. The come down is incredible, Ian feels light and tingly everywhere except for where Mickey is rested against him, solid and heavy and grounding.

They lay there for a peaceful moment before Mickey is untangling himself and moving away. Ian raises his head and frowns when he sees Mickey picking up his discarded clothing and getting dressed silently.

“You know, I’m just going to have to take that all off again later,” Ian says, propping himself up on his forearms.

Mickey sniffs and shrugs, “Nah, I gotta go.”

“Since when?” Ian asks, sliding off the counter and grabbing his boxers from the ground, “I thought you said that you were free until the morning.”

“Something came up,” Mickey grumbles, looking anywhere but Ian as he finishes pulling on his shirt.

“Bullshit,” Ian snaps and steps in front of Mickey, blocking his way when he tries to walk to the door. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Mickey.”

“Not lying,” Mickey says, still refusing to look at Ian and instead focusing on a spot just over Ian’s shoulder.

Ian knows what this is and he knows why, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Ian sighs deeply and puts a hand on Mickey’s arm, “Just because I said, _you know_ , that doesn’t mean it’s a big deal.”

Mickey shrugs again, feigning nonchalance, “I know, that shits intense and people spout off lots of shit during sex they don’t mean.”

Ian feels a surge of anger at Mickey’s words, he grabs Mickey’s chin with his free hand and forces him to meet Ian’s eyes, “I wasn’t just saying that because of sex, Mickey, I meant it. I lo-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey snaps, cutting Ian off and pulling away from his touch.

Ian steps forward, trying not to feel dejected because he knows this is just how Mickey is. “Look, its okay if you can’t say it back,” Ian says quietly, “I don’t need you to, I just wanted you to know that I do.”

Ian takes another step forward and then Mickey’s shoving at his chest, pushing him away roughly and growling, “What the fuck, Gallagher? What the fuck do you think this is?”

“Mick-”

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, I’m not going to the fuckin’ prom with you and we’re not sayin’ this shit,” Mickey snaps angrily.

Ian laughs dryly and shakes his head, “Seriously? You take me out for lunch every day, ask me to hang out every day, sleepover in my bed every night; what the fuck do you think this is?”

“We’re friends,” Mickey says coolly, holding his fists at his side, clenching and unclenching them as he speaks.

“No, we’re not friends,” Ian growls, stuck between the urge to move closer to Mickey or stay his distance. “We haven’t been friends since you kissed me and told me you wanted this!”

“I never said that!” Mickey yells, arms out to his side and leaned forward, “I told you this could be fuckin’ fun, but that it needed to stay under wraps - just fuckin’ around to take the edge off.” He runs a hand over his face and huffs out a breath, “And then you fuckin’ wreck it with this shit.”

Ian shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly, “Don’t pretend that this doesn’t mean anything to you. You can deny it all you want, freak out when I tell you I love you, but I know how you feel and I know you love me too.”

Mickey slowly walks over to Ian, meeting his gaze with a fury burning behind his eyes. Ian’s scared for the first time since he met Mickey that this might be his breaking point. He’s seen Mickey’s anger manifest into violence before but there was never a time that Ian thought it might be used against him. He’s not so sure that will hold true now.

“You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about me,” Mickey hisses quietly, “Get your head out of your ass and stop living in a fuckin’ fairy world. This isn’t happening, not now, not fuckin’ ever.”

Then Mickey’s gone, door slamming loudly behind him as he storms out of Ian’s apartment.

Ian thinks he should be sad; devastated that the first person outside his family he’s ever truly love has now told him that he doesn’t love him back. He had been so sure and confident in what they had that he never considered maybe all the love was one sided.

Because Mickey doesn’t love him.

He should be sad, instead he’s just filled with rage.

Fuck Mickey Milkovich.

 

-

 

Mickey avoids Ian at work the next day and Ian can’t really say he’s too broken up about it. He doesn’t want to see Mickey either and can’t stand the idea of actually talking to him. So he doesn’t.

It doesn’t get any better the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

They silently brush past each other in the hallways, not sparing a glance in the others direction. It doesn’t go unnoticed but no one asks about it, which Ian is thankful for, he doesn’t want to think too much about it. He’s been incredibly thankful for how angry he is because he knows the second he thinks too much about it, it will be the crushing devastation that he should be feeling.

Its four days before Mickey acknowledges Ian and that’s only because he’s the assigned nurse to one of Ian’s patients.

Ian struggles to stay polite, stay professional, because all he wants is to fucking scream at Mickey (and then kiss him and fuck him, or maybe just that instead). Ian scribbles on the clipboard, turning away from his patient and walking over to the nurse’s desk, Mickey dutifully follows behind him, seeming to struggle with professionalism himself.

The patient is a pretty straightforward, the man’s name is Clifford; he has a severe form of cancer and is in the last stages of his life. He’s a sweet guy, talks about his grandchildren more than anything else, and he seems to have an affinity for Mickey over all the other nurses (a lot of patients do, actually. Dana always says there’s something about his gruff nature that makes people feel secure).

“You can put him on a morphine drip and just keep him as comfortable as possible,” Ian comments without looking up from the board.

“Not sure that’s a great idea,” Mickey says, and at the very least seems as uncomfortable with the need to have an actual conversation as Ian is. “I’ve been dealin’ with this guy a lot recently and I’m pretty sure that Morphine’s gonna be too harsh for him.”

“He’s dying, I don’t think he’ll care,” Ian answers coolly, “He just wants to ease the pain and morphine will do that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like morphine is the end all be all of painkillers, we can just give him something else.”

“No, I already told you what we were doing.”

“I know, Ian, but I really think you’re making a bad call here.”

Ian slams the clipboard down on the counter and turns to look at Mickey. It’s stupid and he knows it’s stupid. Everything Mickey is saying is probably valid, he knows Clifford better than Ian and Ian should trust his judgement, but he’s too fucking mad to care.

Ian snaps, no longer able to hold himself back, and says loudly, “I told you what was happening already and it’s not changing. I didn’t go through eight years of medical school to have a fucking nurse tell me what to do. Do what I tell you or get a new patient.”

Mickey blinks and swallows, moving slowly as he backs away from Ian. “Right, just a fuckin’ nurse,” Mickey says.

Ian feels all his anger fading in an instant, just seeing how Mickey’s face falls, looking so defeated and crushed. Ian wants to take it all back, wants to hug Mickey and tell him how important he is, kiss him everywhere until he’s smiling and laughing again.

“Mick, I didn’t-” Ian tries.

Mickey holds up a hand a shakes his head, “Nah, I’ve heard enough. Maybe you should go find another stupid nurse to help you.”

And for the second time that week, Ian watches Mickey walk away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> It should be noted that Ian did take Mickey's advice with that patient (I was going to add that in but it never seemed to fit).
> 
> Also, sure hope you weren't looking for fluff....
> 
> [Tumblr :)](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


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